Ameliorate
by fictitiousburn
Summary: Zuko learns (to cope / to live / to improve) after a pair of vicious murders makes him an orphan (a Zuko-centric fic; parallel to Convalesce)
1. de·te·ri·o·rate

**a·mel·io·rate **/ _to make or become better, more bearable, or more satisfactory; to improve_ /** verb**

**Summary:** Zuko realizes that he's in a (desperate / painful / difficult) situation when he begins to assume the parent role.  
**Rating:** **M** for **Mature**; dark themes, character death, mentions of blood, and violence.  
**Notes:** This story is a companion to **Convalesce** from the point of view of Zuko's troubles. I realized it'll be two overlapped arcs and I will try to have them both updated at the same time to put everything in perspective! The chapter titles will be the same as to properly match up the time periods.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything affiliated with Avatar: the Last Airbender or any of the characters portrayed here.

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**de·te·ri·o·rate / **_to make or become worse or inferior in character, quality, value, etc; to disintegrate or wear away_** / verb**

Zuko pretends. Zuko ignores. But then, Zuko adapts.

Zuko knows that his father does not like him. The moment that Azula perfectly executes a fireball blast, he feels himself being pushed into his sister's shadow. Part of him desperately wants his father to be proud of him (just for once, he swears) and the other part of him glances at his mother and her warm smile and he knows then that she will always find favor with him. It's the only thing that soothes him when he feels like he's failing.

At least Mother loves me.

He waits in his bed with his feet pressed against the sheets and his hair tied away from his face. He holds a story scroll in his lap, looking through the pictures while he waits for Ursa to come to him. She _always_ comes to him late in the night to read to him, unless he is already asleep, and then she turns away. Zuko has always had trouble sleeping at night. Perhaps it is because, his mother says, he was born at night instead of during the day like most firebending children. Azula, as his mother always reminds him, was born at dawn. He was born several hours before midnight. Even still, as Ursa does not come, Zuko does not worry. She always comes. He expects her.

He does not expect Azula.

The door creaks open and the Prince frowns at the sight of his sister before taking the time to look at her. Her eyes are bright and dangerously tinted, her hands are shaking and—blood, that's _blood_—her hands are coated with blood. He's afraid. Zuko is terrified of his sister, but it doesn't flicker across his face at all. He stares at the little girl blankly, watching her and waiting to see what she does. He has always known Azula was capable of dangerous things. He doesn't flinch at the dagger in her hand because he knows that even if their father thinks she knows nothing about using it, that _he_ knows she can use it. Only he knows what Azula is capable of. Ozai blinds himself to see only the talents that he wants to see. Ursa blinds herself to _everything_ about the monster she has nursed from infancy. But Zuko is painfully familiar with her limitless range of talents. But Zuko has always been better at combat, despite his sister being better at bending, and while his father considered it weak, right now it left him at an advantage. He gazes at her carefully, trying to calculate whether she will come to him first or whether he will have to go to her (because _someone_ has to do _something_).

"Zu-Zu," her voice rings in his ears and shakes him down to his core. He knows she has done something (monumentally / undeniably / immensely) wrong.

"'Zula," he replies and hears the (uncertainty / nervousness / instability) in his own voice as it makes its way out of his mouth.

Zuko watches as Azula raises the dagger in her hand to her hair and that is when he moves. He tosses his blankets aside and leaps over his bed, watching the uneven black locks scatter to his floor. In a few steps, he is close to Azula and he reaches for her as she swipes at him. He bites down on his lip at the wound but tackles her to the ground, pinning her hands by her head. She fights, she screams, she kicks. Zuko tries to hold still and he thinks, the horror of the situation setting in. Ursa always comes but she won't come tonight. He hopes that his parents are at least alive, even Ozai, _especially_ Ozai. His father will have died thinking he was weak and Zuko could not bear the thought of losing his only chance at redeeming himself. He stares down at his sister, pushing all those thoughts away.

Zuko leans down to her ear and finds himself (fearfully / hesitantly / anxiously) whispering into her ear, "I love you, 'Zula. Father loves you, 'Zula. Mother loves you, 'Zula. I love you, 'Zula." He can feel her shaking underneath him but he's taken aback when he sees tears sliding down her face. He wonders whether she thinks he is lying, whether she thinks he is manipulating, whether she thinks he is honest. He watches her cry and watches her fight against him and watches her begin to realize that her brother is not letting go of her.

"Stop fighting."

He says it (firmly / slowly / hopefully) and watches her body slump underneath him. For a moment, her eyes appear traitorous but then they change to an emotion that he cannot label. He feels the five-year-old girl coming to life as she leans into him, tears blotting his sleep clothes. Zuko takes her into his arms and sees her close her eyes. He wants to think that this is over, but he struggles in lifting her, wincing as the fabric of her clothes brush his wrist and bring (searing / deep / intense) pain to his wound. In the end, he slings Azula half over his shoulder and ventures out of his room.

There are no guards. The halls are dark and Zuko weakly summons a flame in his bleeding hand, his other arm wrapped around Azula's legs to keep her still. He maneuvers through the palace towards his parents' chambers, reaching his father's first. The drops of blood in the doorway signal him first and he wanders towards his father's bed. Ozai's pillows are blood-stained and the Fire Lord is slumped forward, a blossoming stain of blood across his back. His lengthy brown hair shields his face and tentatively, Zuko nudges him so that he slides over. His body is rigid but still pliable and he sees the wide, golden eyes of his father glossed over, dark veins in the whites of his eyes. Zuko turns away and suppresses (his feelings / his nausea / his heartache).

He's afraid after he carries Azula out of his father's room. He does _not_ want to see Ursa's fate. But hope prickles uncomfortably at his heart and he can't fight it. His feet shuffle reluctantly until he uses her body to push the door open. Candles burning down to a fourth of a candlestick, the lighting dim, Ursa lays still in her bed. "Mother?" Zuko's voice trembles dangerously, tears already brimming at his lids. He takes a step forward and gasps at the sight of her, almost daring to drop Azula. After a few horror-stricken moments of staring, he sets his sister down on the floor and scrambles into his mother's bed. Beautiful even in death, the red streaks of blood pouring down her neck scare Zuko so much that he can only stare, his vision blurring, and his entire body shaking. He shoves her blankets at the wound, less so to clean it and more so to cover it up. He leans against her shoulder, his tiny hands reaching for her cold, rigid fingers, and he cries into the sheets.

Everything hurts. His mother is dead and he hurts more than he can fathom. It overrides everything else and he feels like his body is trying to contain half a dozen lit fireworks as he fights to contain his pain. He climbs down from his perch, hastily wiping his face and reaching for Azula. This time, he lifts her across his hands, the pain in his wrist dull in comparison to the pain gripping his chest. The Infirmary is out of the question so Zuko heads back to his room to gather a handful of his own belongings—a dusty, fire red cloak, strips of gauze and tape from a burn kit, a tiny purse of coins—and steels himself. His parents are dead. His sister killed his parents. He looks down at her in his arms, her face twisted even in her sleep, and wonders whether he can live with her for that, whether he can live with himself for that, whether he should even deserve to live if he can do either of those things.

He only knows one thing, one piece of family left to turn to for this disaster. How exactly he planned to get to Iroh, Zuko hasn't figured out yet. He knows he doesn't have a lot of time, certainly not enough time to rest or do anything else but figure a way of travel. But first, Zuko tries to reconcile with the facts of the evening. His parents are dead. His sister killed them. Ozai and Ursa are dead. _Azula_ killed them. He already had tangled, mixed feelings about his family. His father hated him, or at least it felt that way to Zuko. He died hating his only son. His mother loved him and he knew that she died regretting that she hadn't read him his story for the night. His sister was complicated. She acted like she loved him, she acted like she hated him, and she had tried to kill him.

On most days, Zuko hates Azula. He doesn't want to (play / firebend / live) with her. He hates her in the way that any older brother _hates_ their younger sister. She annoys him, she tortures him, she ruins everything for him. And she has done just that. She has _killed_ their parents. But it is when he finally beats that fact into his head that he realizes that he has no other choice. He must assume the burden that his mother must have carried for her only daughter. He must assume a parental role in her life.

From this moment forward, he must _love_ Azula (or die trying to prove it to her), even though he wants nothing more than to hate her.


	2. ap·pre·ci·ate

**a·mel·io·rate **/ _to make or become better, more bearable, or more satisfactory; to improve_ /** verb**

**Summary:** Zuko learns the ups and downs of (unconditional / reluctant / unearned) love.  
**Rating:** **M** for **Mature**; dark themes, character death, mentions of blood, and violence.  
**Notes:** Sorry that this took so long! I thought I had a section of this pre-written and forgot I lost it, so I tried to write it as it was. This is dedicated to Cegorach for the 'Zuko is a wizard' theory, which I was tempted to keep when I was writing Convalesce but I always had a loose construction of how they traveled that far.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything affiliated with Avatar: the Last Airbender or any of the characters portrayed here.

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**ap·pre·ci·ate **/ _to be grateful or thankful for; to value or regard highly_ / **verb**

Zuko winces. Zuko doubts. But then, Zuko succeeds.

A matronly servant, Zuko suspects she may be a midwife or Healer, catches Zuko only hours after his parents' deaths rooting through cabinets in the kitchens. He doesn't speak, he vows to never speak and she cleans his wound without question. She talks to him in a gentle tone without implication and expectation of a response, and when she bandages his wrist, he doesn't move for a solid twenty minutes. He just sits, he just takes it all in, he just tries to catch his breath.

She doesn't ask any questions as the Prince fills a pack full of simple foods like bread, fruit, and anything in a container. He grabs a bottle that she pretends not to notice and she doesn't ask when she watches him put the pack on his back and it jingles with coins. She doesn't ask him anything as he retreats, and Zuko is grateful for it.

The port of the Caldera makes no allowance for small children, even a slightly dirtied prince carrying a murderous princess. "Watch it," an older man stumbles over Zuko and the Prince shoots him a look full of (venom / terror / apprehension) when he turns his golden eyes to him. He shifts Azula in his arms and tries to channel his father through his voice.

"I need to get to the Earth Kingdom."

The older man, dark hair tied in a topknot and his crimson clothes sleeveless and dingy, laughs at the little boy, giving him an amused glance. Zuko's face is stern and the man crouches down to meet him. "That's a long way. Don't no one ever wanna go to the Earth Kingdom when they livin' in the Fire Nation." He is only met with more silence, so he sighs and straightens himself. "Aight, kid. You ain't got nothin' but a brat and a backpack, when what you need is coin."

Zuko hesitates before shifting Azula in his arms; he brandishes a golden, glimmering artifact and holds it out to the older man. "It's real." He takes the ornament into his hands, running his fingers along the five-pronged headpiece. Zuko knew it wasn't his to take, but the thinning line between right and wrong was nearly invisible to him at that moment in time.

"I got a ship travelin' to Ba Sing Se, but you ain't allowed outta the cargo hold."

"Done." He snaps back and shifts Azula in his arms. The man stares down at him incredulously but turns to lead him towards out of the port and towards the dock where more men and a few women navigate the crowds.

"It's uncomfortable—" "—So?" "And we export spiced seafood—" "—I don't care."

"Oh, come on, kid!" He whirls on Zuko, brushing shoulders with someone else in the crowd and the Prince nearly barrels into his legs. "What's so bad you ain't got no problems with being stowed like a shipment of squid?" When he meets fierce golden eyes, he finds an answer.

He turns quickly and leads him back towards the dock, up a gangplank, and onto a decent sized ship. Zuko doesn't take in any sights, not that he has to chance to, before he is shoved below the deck and into the darkness of the cargo hold by a rough hand. He stumbles and Azula tumbles out of his grip with a crack and a roll; she offers him little more than a grunt of acknowledgment to show that she has felt it, and Zuko feels around in the dark before lighting his palm and finding Azula splayed next to a bunch of heavy crates and boxes. He breaks off a splintering piece of wood with his fist and lights it on fire, wedging it carefully into a crate as he moves swiftly. He sits Azula up against the wall and drapes his cloak over her body. He pulls his backpack off of his shoulders and sets it at his feet. When he draws his knees up to his chest, he rests them there solemnly for a while, before he reaches to extinguish the flame.

Zuko is (kicked / startled / forced) awake by shrill screaming. He scrambles and throws his palm over Azula's mouth while lighting his other palm full of fire. "Azula," he stops when he sees her eyes are closed. He kicks his backpack over, watching a roll of tape and the neck of a bottle spill out. He lets go of his fire to reach for the bottle and he fumbles in the dark with the cork. The liquid splashes back a harsh smell and he forces it into Azula's mouth. He can feel her gurgling, choking, swallowing it; he can feel it dribbling out of her mouth in the corners. She screams for five more minutes under the cover of his palm before she drifts asleep and stays asleep.

The rocking of the ship makes him uneasy, but not nauseous. He sips from the bottle but the burning liquid only makes him (despondent / numb / apathetic) and he rests his head back against the wall of the ship. It's so dark that he can no longer tell when he is asleep and when he is awake; visions of his mother and father dance in front of his eyes and he doesn't cope with it well, reaching for the bottle or crying gently into his warm fists.

When the door is thrown open, Zuko wonders if he is dreaming of a warm light where his mother awaits him with a story and his father resides with trickles of love he hadn't given him in his mortal life, but the fantasy is quickly shattered with a, "Hey, kid!"

Zuko scrambles for (his belongings / his resolve / his sister) as the older man offers him a hand. He declines it, pulling himself and an unconscious Azula along with him. The sun burns in his irises and he squints even when he gazes down at the ground over his sister's prone body. He grumbles a gentle thanks to the older man and prepares for the rest of his journey.

When Zuko sees the familiar tea shop, he crashes through the door—literally. Azula falls to the floor and doesn't stir; his palm catches an upraised piece of wood and splinters through the skin. He hisses as he pulls back and the patrons and servers all stare at him on his hands and knees. "What is all the commo—nephew!"

He looks up at his uncle and isn't sure if he's crying, shaking, or just really cold all of a sudden. All he knows is that Iroh pulls him up into his arms, engulfing him in an embrace scented of ginseng and charred pastry. When he lets go, he lifts Azula and instructs his nephew to follow him. Every step shakes and Zuko remembers he hasn't eaten; the scent of food turns his stomach over with nausea.

"Prince Zuko," his uncle says when Azula is safely propped up in a bed in Iroh's cottage close by the tea shop, "what is the meaning of your visit here?"

And Zuko launches into the tale, trembling, sobbing, disintegrating with anger and sadness. When he finishes, Iroh's face is pale and ashen and Zuko is shaking and sobbing with his hands covering his face. It hurts to cry as he feels his body draining for lack of food and proper rest, but he is still (broken / delicate / wounded) over the events that transpired. If he has anything to say to the young prince, he doesn't; instead, he leads Zuko to the same room where his sister is fast asleep and leaves him there.

Zuko sleeps (fitfully / lightly / quickly) until Iroh comes to retrieve him. Azula is still asleep; Zuko isn't sure what he'll do when it's the two of them, alone, with just each other. He is still having a difficult time wrapping his head around everything that has happened. "Listen to me, nephew," Iroh says quietly, but fiercely, "we must return to the Fire Nation. Things will not be easy for you or your sister, but I will be with you. No one can take that away from you."

This time, when he pulls Zuko into a hug, the young firebender feels nothing but relief and a grateful sensation spreading through his chest. Maybe he will be able to get through everything in one piece.


End file.
